


Grow as we go

by Beeexx



Category: 9-1-1: Lone Star (TV 2020)
Genre: Detox, Drug Use, Emotional Hurt, Falling In Love, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Overdosing, Recovery, Rehabilitation, Some comfort, Therapy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-15 21:47:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29442855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beeexx/pseuds/Beeexx
Summary: Pre show TK.We all need a little help sometimes.A story about TK in therapy at different stages in his life, starting from age 21 detailing all the way to the show and beyond.A look at how it all started.
Relationships: Carlos Reyes/TK Strand
Comments: 16
Kudos: 44





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> 'TK, while at rehab meets his therapist for the first time.'
> 
> Thanks for finding your way here, I'm expecting it shall be a long and winding journey until we reach the end.
> 
> Also, please, to everyone, read my tags carefully, we're dealing in heavy subject matter and I don't want to trigger anyone with this. Please take care <3
> 
> Just to keep in mind that this is pre show TK, and he's young and very different from when we meet him in the show. He's been through some shit before he got there, this is my take on how it went.
> 
> The plan is to write instances of TK in therapy all the way to Austin and Carlos, so yes this will have eventual Tarlos, but not for a while.

TK, age 21.

Rehab, New York.

TK can’t stop fidgeting. 

The couch he’s sitting on is uncomfortable. But it’s not just that it’s uncomfortable, it’s also so ugly, the mint green so discoloured it looks like puke. For the last ten minutes he’s stubbornly been pulling at a loose thread in the cushion he’s sitting on, just so he doesn’t have to look at the man facing him. His attention keeps switching between the thread refusing to give and his own shoes, white new Nike sneakers his mother thought was good to get him for some reason before he left. The smooth leather is tarnished by a brown ugly spot that he keeps persistently scraping against the disgusting linoleum floor, to see if it will get worse or not. The sound also works as a nice distraction in the quiet room. 

He doesn’t know how long he’s been here, ten, fifteen minutes, time in here doesn’t really matter. It often feels like it operates differently here than it does in the real world, everything slowed down and passing at a snail’s pace compared to the outside world. The room has no visible clock in it, it’s probably a conscious choice by the man sitting in front of him and he, for a moment, can't help but wonder how he can tell the time at all. They’re still sitting in silence and it’s fraught with unease, probably radiating off TK in waves. 

He moves his attention to the room instead, which is tiny, feels like it’s not much bigger than a broom closet, a small desk in the corner with an ancient computer on top, a bookcase and then TK on the couch, separated from the man only by an ugly carpet meant to distract from the even uglier floor. The ventilation system is loud, whining in the corner and TK tries not to shiver in the cool room.

“Tyler? Or Kennedy?” The man says and that gets TK’s attention. He glares.

The man sitting in an armchair in front of him is old. He has a notable mop of white wavy hair and an equally impressive beard to match and he looks a lot like Santa Claus. If TK cared enough about it he’d find it ridiculous. He has small eyes, that in the glasses he’s wearing are made to look massive, and an olive green tweed jacket on with jeans that looks too washed out to resemble any colour and he really looks more like an overstressed history professor than he does a physiatrist, but he is watching back with attentive kind eyes that tells TK he’s clever, probably too clever to fall for TK’s tricks.

He already hates this. 

But he doesn’t care so he pushes down the urge to comment on any of it.

“TK.” He corrects, because that he does care about.

“TK.” He amends. TK averts his eyes. 

His right hand that’s been trying to pull the thread loose is shaking again. He makes a fists and clenches his fingers so hard against his skin it sends a jolt of pain through his arm. He’s been doing that a lot recently, and soon he will pierce skin and draw blood and a part of him welcomes that feeling of pain, that he even can feel pain that’s not just emotional effects he’s suffered from having to detox. He’s spent most of his time here with his head pressed against the cool floor, body in a fetal position, puking at first, shivering and suffering from a fever high later, not sleeping, he distinctly remembers crying at one point too and as the drugs begin to leave his body, slow at first, quicker later, he was convinced a few times his heart would give up and he would just die, alone and in a disgusting heap of his sick. This isn’t the first time he’s detoxed, but it’s the first time he’s detoxed with this much in his system and it goes to show how bad it’s been when he’s reacted this strongly to it.

His hands still shake though, the tremors uncontrollable when they happen. But they’re lasting less and less each time and someone he can’t remember the name of told him it’s a good thing. 

“I heard you’re eating…” The man says again. TK meets his eyes, lifts an eyebrow, unimpressed. The man looks like he wants to laugh, but he doesn’t. TK doesn’t say anything.

“That’s good. Progress.” TK scoffs.

“I got hungry.” Is what he offers up as the explanation. 

Truth is, after he’d been forced to detox when he was admitted, with the first day spent puking his guts out, so even if he would have been able to keep solid food down, it really wasn’t an option. When that stopped he couldn’t make himself eat, his stomach turning just by the very thought of it, and he was scared it would set him off again so he refrained from it for as long as he could. But after a few days of not leaving his room, he was forced to and so he sat down in the cafeteria and he stared at the plate in front of himself because he couldn’t make himself look at anything else, and picked at the food, forced some boiled carrots down and then some dry tuna and then little by little the whole plate disappeared and a career which TK knows is called Henry, because Henry has barely left his side had looked at him approvingly, a small little smile curling at the end of his lips and TK had averted his eyes and hadn’t felt anything. 

“I see, well that’s still good.”

He shrugs. The man’s lip twitches.

“So, should we start?” TK doesn’t offer up a reply. It doesn’t seem to deter the man one bit and an unexpected flare of annoyance pushes through TK’s wall of indifference he’s been upholding since he got here.

“Sure.” He mutters but doesn’t say anything else. 

“Do you want to begin telling me about yourself?” TK glares, huffs and sits back, stops for a moment and finally gets the thread loose. It gives him a brief moment of satisfaction, but it disappears as soon as it’s come, and instead he crosses his arms in front of himself, hides the hands that are still trembling and sits back. He refrains from tucking his knees underneath himself though, not wanting the man to see how uneasy he feels about being here. 

“Don’t you have all the information about me in your file already?” He glares at it, wishes he could burn it. The man lifts an eyebrow.

“I have some, not everything, not the things that matter. At least I don’t think your weight matters in helping with your recovery, do you?” TK hates the word recovery, it makes him sound like he’s ill, damaged, broken. The list can be made long and TK would probably agree on every point on that list, but having some stranger refer to him as being in recovery makes sudden hot anger appear immediately, TK struggling to tamper it down.

“Do you want me to read out what the file says about you?” TK narrows his eyes in suspicion, but it’s distracting him from the anger, so he shrugs indifferently to hide his curiosity, he’s never been offered to be read his own files before. The man doesn’t say anything, but maybe he sees TK’s curiosity because he flips it open and readjusts his glasses before he starts reading.

“Tyler Kennedy Strand, age 21, 154 pounds.” His lip twitches when he reads that out, apparently thinking he’s really funny. “Prefered drugs of misuse are opioids, particularly fentanyl. This is the first time he’s been admitted for an overdose. No other known medical history that is cause for worry. It also says you signed yourself into rehab, correct?” TK only nods. 

“Cause for starting using is unclear. Then it’s just some unimportant personal details your parents provided, like birthday and address and health insurance number, etc.” The man closes the file and leans forward, fixing TK with a piercing look.

“So, where do you want to begin?” TK doesn’t answer.

“Okay, should I ask you a question then?”

“Do I get anything in return?” He shoots back. The man smiles.

“Therapy.” TK rolls his eyes. 

“So, I’ll start easy. How are you feeling?”

“That’s supposed to be an easy question?”

“Is it not?” The man lifts an eyebrow, intrigued and he picks up a pen that makes TK’s skin crawl in discomfort. His mouth hardens into a thin line and he glares, starts stubbornly staring into the ground, unable to look at the man for a moment. The man clears his throat.

“Would you prefer a recorded session instead?”

“I have no opnion on the matter.”

“Your reaction to me picking up a pen tells me you do. So, does it bother you that I want to write things down?”

“Doesn’t it bother everyone to be studied? Judged and picked apart by a stranger.” He snaps, eyes flitting to him for a moment but he doesn’t look surprised or angry, just calm eyes looking back.

“Yes, I would think so.”

“So, there is my answer.”

“Is me taking notes during a therapy session the most uncomfortable thing you’ve experienced since you got here?” TK, despite himself, shakes his head.

“Well then, if you managed to get through the rest of it then you can get through this. No one will read what I write down, whatever you say will stay between us, I promise.” He says it earnestly and it bugs TK that he believes the man. He just shrugs, because he doesn’t care who reads it or not, at least he tells himself that.

“So, how are you?” The man seems to have the patience of a saint because not a trace of annoyance or any lingering frustration in TK’s purposeful conceits in avoiding this whole thing seems to have gotten to him yet. It’s almost admirable. But maybe the man has had more difficult patients than TK and for a moment he thinks he should up his game, but he rejects that as soon as he’s thought it. He barely has the energy to stare indifferently at the man as it is, putting more effort into the whole thing seems to be a little too much for him and his exhausted body and mind right now. 

He sighs and feels shaky.

“Fine.” The man lifts an eyebrow, unimpressed.

“Terrible.”

“Fine or terrible?”

TK sighs again.

“What do you think?”

“It’s not my place to tell you how you feel or think, or what you should feel either for that matter.”

“Then what is your job?”

“You really don’t like answering questions, do you?” The man chuckles heartedly and jots something down in his brown leather notebook that looks to be the most expensive thing in his office by far.

“Did you just write that down?” 

“I’ll tell you what I put in here if you tell me how you feel, for real this time?” The man smiles, the dare in his words obvious and TK huffs, crosses his arms again, which makes it look more like he’s wrapping his arms around himself in a guarding gesture or reassurance than in confidence. He sees the man write something else and he averts his eyes, lets them travel around the room so he doesn’t have to look at him and his stupid knowing eyes. 

There’s a painting hanging by a bookcase. He thinks the painting is ugly but he can’t help but look at it anyway, the person looking out at the horizon surprisingly captivating. He sees the man take note of that too, but this time he doesn’t write anything down, just looks at TK to see his reaction. 

“I feel… bad.” He settles on, gives the man an answer he seems to be craving so much. He hums.

“Short and concise, why do you feel bad?”

“Is that not obvious?” He bites back.

“Indulge me.”

“Well, being forced to go to rehab for starters.”

“But you signed yourself in.” The man reminds him, unhelpfully.

“Yes because what was the alternative?” The man smiles now, kind, eyes crinkled in the corners and he nods.

“I don’t know.”

“The alternative wasn’t an option.”

“Because?”

“I thought you would tell me what you wrote down in the notebook if I told you how I felt. I’ve told you, terrible and trapped, your turn.”

“Very well. But I don’t think this conversation is quite over.” TK says nothing, levels the man with a heated glare instead. It seems to have no effect on him whatsoever but he turns the notebook around, forcing TK to lean forward to see. It turns out the man hasn’t written anything down at all, instead he’s doodled a little silly cartoonish version of what TK thinks is a ferret, crouched down on a couch looking grumpy. He looks up in disbelief, unexpected anger flaring inside of him. 

“What the fuck?”

“It’s pretty good right?”

“You tricked me.” He accuses, feels like a child, but can’t help but be hurt too. The man huffs, and drops the smile, grows a bit more serious.

“In my defense I didn’t say I wrote anything down to begin with. And sometimes I like doodling my patients as animals, I find animals can be very representative of a person.”

“And I’m a ferret?” He scoffs, hurt. 

“Maybe, maybe not. You know, ferrets are very clever, good at thinking on their feet. They are also surprisingly affectionate and crave company…” TK’s frown falls off his face. “But they can also be very destructive, especially when they feel lonely.” He trails off and TK feels his face sting and he stubbornly looks down at his feet, because of the words a jagged ache cuts through him.

“But even though small in size they are strong, intuitive, not an animal to doubt.” The man says, apparently way too perceptive already to TK’s moods. It annoys him, that he can be read so easily by him. 

“They are annoying.” He says to disrupt the tension and his own sense of lingering uncomfortableness. 

“Those are your words not mine. I wouldn’t say annoying though, maybe tenacious is better?” He suggests a hint of thoughtfulness to his words, like he’s spent time actually thinking about it. TK dares to look at the man, who’s watching back with an annoyingly calm disposition to the whole thing. It is frustrating, but it’s also effective, being in the room with someone who doesn’t fall for TK’s attempts to get a rise out of him, who is calm, clashing against TK’s much more stormy moods, who hasn’t felt calm in a long time. There’s always a strumming just underneath his skin, burning in his veins. It’s more quiet now than it has been in ages, but he feels it still, if he really lets himself focus.

“You got all that from just meeting me?” He says after some quiet, hates that he’s curious about it.

Not that he’s ever been to therapy before and all the movies and tv shows that talk about it, well he’s pretty sure their therapists don’t look like Santa Claus and draw their patients as animals. But what does he know?

He looks up again and the man looks a little sly, his wrinkles becoming even more prominent when he almost smiles. 

TK shakes his head, finds that the man is odd and that he kind of likes it. It’s refreshing at least. 

“I did yes. I’m not saying my assumptions are right though. People are more complicated than that, some like being included in a label, some don’t.”

“And my label is a ferret?”

“If you want.”

“I’m already gay, that’s the only label I think I’d like to presribe to thanks.”

“And an addict.” He reminds, kindly but it stings anyway. The man holds his hands up, in an almost apologetic way. 

“Okay, moving on. So, out of curiosity, anything that I said about you that you disagree or agree with?”

For a moment TK wants to stubbornly refuse him, but he’s tired, and he feels a headache coming on and the faster he gets this over with, the faster he can leave. 

“You think I’m destructive?” The man sighs, almost sounding disappointed, but maybe TK is reading too much into it and takes his glasses off, wipes them on his sleeve.

“I don’t know TK. I’d say most people that willingly put a substance as dangerous as drugs in their system, knowing the risks of it, are a little destructive, yes. That said, you’ve given me very little information about yourself so from what I know so far I’d say that maybe you’re more lonely than purposefully destructive. It might be that when you get that lonely feeling you just don’t know what to do with it so you act out instead.” 

TK gulps and shakes his head, doesn’t want to fucking cry.

“And now you think I’m lonely?” He avoids the answer with a passion.

“Are you?”

TK doesn’t dignify that with a response, he shrugs, tries getting some dirt out from his finger nail instead and shrugs again.

“Maybe.” He says when the quiet gets a bit too much. 

“Also, avoids my questions with a passion because he struggles with dealing with the uncomfortable truth of what he might be. He’s in denial.” The man easily fires back.

“Ouch.” TK winces.

“It’s the truth though, no?”

“I don’t avoid it…” He weakly defends and regrets opening his mouth, realising too late that he wants to get a rise out of him.

“Don’t you?”

“I know what I am.” He mutters.

“And what is that?”

“A fuck up, a freak, a massive mistake and a nuisance. Would you like me to go on?” His voice breaks and he hates it. It makes him feel weak. He doesn’t want to cry and he doesn’t want to bare himself to this man. He wants to go home. The man looks a little sad but he quickly conceals it back behind aloofness instead. 

“What makes you say that?”

“Wasn’t that what you want me to say?”

“No. It wasn’t. But it tells me a lot that you seem to think those things about yourself.”

“Isn’t this what all… addicts...think about themselves?” He spits out the word that he hates, tasting like acid on his tongue.

“Not all, some yes. Some feel ashamed too. Do you?”

“Obviously.”

“Why?”

“Because!” He says, expasterated, exhausted, angry.

“Because what? Does it have anything to do with your parents?”

“Yes.” He says through gritted teeth, because that should be obvious to anyone.

“Okay, why?”

“What do you mean why?”

“It’s a question.”

“I know it’s a question, I just don’t get the relevance.”

“Letting your parents down, is that the only reason you feel ashamed?” The therapist pushes and TK glares for a very long moment at the man who doesn’t seem to know when to stop. He stares back though, unaffected. 

“I don’t know.” He admits, defeated, tired, the air going out of him, and looks down at his feet again. The man sighs. 

“You don’t know or you don’t want to tell me?”

“I don’t know.” He settles for. “It’s a mess and everything hurts and I’ve spent most of my time here on the floor puking. So no, I don’t know.”

“Okay. I’m going to be frank now.” TK looks at him, can’t help it, feels almost scared of the perceptive eyes looking back at him and he nods mutely.

“Why are you here?”

“Because I have to, it’s included in the program.” He fires back easily. The man’s lip twitches.

“I meant in rehab.” TK sits quietly for a long time, fidgets with his hands that are now still and the answer comes to him, even though he pretends to think about it.

“Because… because I can’t do it alone.” It’s hard to admit, but even TK knows as much, even when he’s exhausted and hates himself and craves a high more than he ever has in his life.

“Good.” When TK looks at him the man nods encouragingly, smile a little proud and eyes kind. “So, what do you want?”

“Out of therapy?” The man chuckles, shakes his head.

“Out of life.” TK frowns, he hasn’t really thought about it. He shrugs.

“To not be here.” He mutters.

“Fair enough, most people don’t want to be here. And yet here you are anyway.”

“I checked myself in.” He reminds him and the therapist snorts but nods again.

“So, back to the question then, why did you?”

“Because I would have died if I didn’t…” He whispers, hands wrought so tightly together now it hurts. It hurts thinking about everything right now, but the swell of emotions being pushed to the surface of that statement almost makes him gasp. He clenches his hands so tightly it’s all he can focus on.

“And you don’t want to die?” TK shakes his head, bites at his lip and gulps down the tears, refusing to let the emotions assault him of images he doesn’t want to think about. 

“Okay. So, do you feel alone?”

He’s happy for the change of subject, he is, even as his brain scrambles to keep up, all of his emotions tangled together into a mess, not sure what he is feeling when the man jumps onto the next subject like he’s in a hurry, TK rushing to keep up with him. He feels, though, vulnerable in an uncomfortable way, like he’s been thrust into a situation so uncertain it’s unmasking him, exposing him and his ugly self, unable to hide behind feigned confidence anymore. 

“Sometimes, don’t everyone though?” He forces the words out, clears his throat.

“Yes, probably, but not everyone starts using drugs because they are lonely.”

“I didn’t start using because I was lonely.”

“Okay, why did you?”

“I don’t know, I started and then I couldn’t stop.” The man nods, a little thoughtfully. 

“What do your parents do?” That takes TK by surprise. 

“My dad is a firefighter and my mom is a lawyer.”

“So, they are busy people then?” TK nods.

“And were you left alone a lot growing up?”

“Yes, it’s still not the reason I started using.”

“I’m not saying it is.” He assures, but he does note something down in his notebook. TK can’t help but wonder if it’s another animal. He frowns and can’t help but to think of the question, finding it harder than he thought to come up with something.

“Does it have to have an answer?” He wonders, less hostile and defensive about it, just a little unsure, wanting to know if there has to be a reason for everything. 

“No, not necessarily. But everything has a beginning.”

“And an end by that definition.”

“Yes, but this isn’t the end for you, it’s just a beginning and a stop and then off you go forward.”

“What makes you think that?”

“I have an inkling.” He smiles, eyes twinkling a bit michvesiously, a face full of wrinkles now on display, and TK rolls his eyes. 

“I want to get better, I don’t want to be fucking miserable, which I am all the time. The only time I’m not is when I am high.” He says after some brief hesitation, the words almost pulled out of his mouth. But, despite TK wanting to deny he’s even said that, it’s probably the truth.

“Good.”

“Good? I just told you that drugs are the only thing not making me miserable.”

“Yes, but it’s also an acknowledgement from your side, that you want something. So, if you don’t want to be miserable, then what do you want to be?”

“Happy?”

“Happy? Or happy.”

“Is there a difference?”

“You just answered my question with another question, so I’m just asking you whether you would like to be happy, or if you just think you want to be happy.” TK thinks on it.

“I’d like to be happy, whatever that means.”

“Good, I think happy is an excellent goal. Not everyone can crystalise what they want to get out of therapy, you seem, despite all this deflection, to know what you want.”

“I guess…”

“There is power in recovery.”

“There is also power in addiction.” He chimes in and the therapist nods slowly.

“They are going to be at war with each other, butting heads. It’s not easy recovering from addiction, it really isn't. But there is hope at the end of the line, if you’re willing to go the distance.”

“Poetic.” He mutters, but with less bite than he had planned. The man chuckles.

“Most people who come in here don’t even recognize that they have a problem. The fact that you have already done that gives me hope that you’re going to be okay, with time.”

“You don’t know.” He points out, unsure, because the fact that anyone does have hope in him, that they expect things of him, makes everything feel much bigger and scarier. He doesn’t want people expecting anything from him. He’s just going to let them down, he always does. 

“No, I don’t. But I think we can make some progress together. You want to be happy, sure, no one is happy all the time. But being happy is still a realistic goal, even for you.”

“It doesn’t feel like that.” He murmurs.

“Maybe because you haven’t had the right motivator before.” TK looks at him again, compassion evident in his eyes, body language loose and relaxed, and TK doesn’t understand how someone can be so comfortable in an environment that’s so deeply unnatural. It makes no sense. 

“And now I do?”

“Why do you want to be happy?” He counters with a question instead. TK shrugs.

“Because I want to know what it’s like. I want to be free of this…”

“Cage?”

“Yeah…”

“So you want to be happy for yourself?” TK nods, looks at the floor and nods more assured again.

“Well there is your motivator then, you’re doing this for yourself, not for your parents, but for you. It’s good to try and remember that during the time you’ll spend here.”

“Well I do want to get better for my parents too. I want to stop letting them down all the time…”

“Yes, I get that and that’s a valid reason too. But don’t let that be your only reason for wanting to get out of here and experience the world. Put yourself first for a bit and trust that what you’re doing here is the right thing.”

TK looks at the man, studies him, tries to find some clever words as a come back. But he’s finding that hard to do right now, because the idea of getting better looms large in a space where despair and unhappiness has loomed even larger for a long time. TK knows there is no quick fix, obviously, but a part of him thinks it’s nice having someone telling him that there is a way out, not that it’s going to be easy, but that it can be done anyway. It feels realistic, doable, even for him. 

“How long is it going to take?”

“However long it needs to.” He looks unimpressed and the man laughs.

“Addiction is a lifelong battle and you’re going to have to fight every day to stay sober, that’s the reality of it I’m afraid.” He says a bit more serious. “That said, life can still be good and fun and beautiful, despite it, it’s not a reason to give up. Many people do get out of addiction and go on to live long and happy lives. That’s definitely a possibility for you as well.”

“But I’m always going to be…” He cuts himself off, feels the despair again, the word that he hates.

“An addict?” He cringes but nods. “Yes, you’re always going to be one. Don’t let the stigma and shame get to you though. There is nothing wrong with being an addict.”

TK looks around the room, raises an eyebrow. The man chuckles.

“This place speaks differently to that.”

“There is nothing wrong in asking for help though. We all need some help from time to time.” 

“Mhhm, I guess we do...”

“I think we'll finish there today.” TK looks up in surprise, feels it’s come about suddenly, disrupting his train of thought completely. 

“Really?”

“Yes, unless there is something else you’re burning to tell me.” He jokes and TK shakes his head, bites down his own little smile. “Well then I’m happy for now.”

“Right, well, what should I call you then?” The man grins, points with his pen at the desk where a small sign says Bill Hayworth.

“The name is on the door too. But Bill is fine.” 

“Right…”

“I think Henry is waiting outside.”

“Yeah he said he would be.”

Bill closes his notebook and taps the pen against it, smiling gently.

“Well I’ll see you at our next session TK.”

“Okay.” TK gets up, feels strange, thought the whole thing would last longer. The clock in the corridor says he’s been in there a little longer than an hour though so maybe that’s why he’s been told to leave, the man must have other patients. 

Henry is on his phone but he smiles gently when he sees TK comes outside, stepping away from the wall he was leaning against. TK sighs and runs a hand through his soft hair that doesn’t have any product in it, wishes he had the hindsight to have brought it with him. He wishes he could fix it, make it look nice, like how it would look on the outside, so he could stop feeling so goddamn out of sorts about everything. Not able to feel completely like himself in a place designed to pick him apart is harrowing, tiring in ways it shouldn’t be, forces his tightly built up walls down and makes him feel like an empty shell, the layers peeled back so far that the rotting corpse hidden beneath everything is forced to the surface.

Or he’s just extremely tired and he’s mind is running haywire and comes up with things that aren’t totally true. He hasn’t been this clean in a really long time, probably over a year if TK has to be honest, and he just feels upside down about everything, but particularly about the lucidity of everything - and maybe this is how the world has always worked and TK’s just forgotten, always sought to escape the sharpness of everything and its hard edges just waiting to cut him. He needed a buffer, so that everything would just stop feeling so goddamn hard all the time, the drugs fixed that for him.

Lot of good things did him though, because it still ended him up in here.

It’s hard not to feel trapped. But he has to tamper that down completely, if he doesn’t, he’s not going to be able to walk the short distance back to his room. He doesn’t feel great, but when he tries thinking of the therapy session it doesn’t make him feel totally terrible either. It’s something to hold onto, whatever the feeling is. So he sighs, concedes to his fate, and follows Henry back to where the sounds are coming from, people grasping at a sense of normality in a cage. It’s his life, for now.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter:  
> -More therapy  
> -TK makes a friend  
> -Shenanigans ensues  
> -And the usual dose of self esteem issues and figuring yourself out
> 
> oh it was a week ago now that I updated, if I could keep to a schedule of updating once a week that would be amazing. Finger crossed!
> 
> Honestly, thanks to EVERYONE who has left comments on this, I was very scared to even write this to begin with as well as it feeling very exposing, but you've all been so nice and it truly means the world to me, so thank you very very much <3
> 
> I hope you enjoy this too, we do a shorter therapy session and TK thinks a lot!

TK finds himself to be bored a lot of the time though, which makes reminding himself why he checked himself in and choosing to stay sober all the more difficult to rationalise. There are group activities of course, even group therapy sessions, and outdoor activities and lots of workshops, but he’s opted out of all the ones he’s allowed to, keeping to himself for most of the stay. 

“If you chose not to opt out of all the activities we provide, then maybe you wouldn’t be so bored.” Henry unhelpfully pipes up from the uncomfortable plastic chair he’s sitting on, head in a book, not even looking at TK who is laying on an uncomfortable, small couch, not meant to lie like the way he is, throwing a tennis ball up and down in the air, for nothing better to do. TK glares, and waits until he gets his attention. Henry lifts an eyebrow.

“Who says I’m bored, maybe I’m plotting how to take over the world.”

“Yeah, then what have you come up with so far?” TK opens and closes his mouth, finds no words coming out and Henry smirks, looks back down into his book, not saying anything. TK huffs.

“What are you reading anyway?” He wonders. Henry flips the book so TK can see.

“The Bell Jar, really?”

“Have you read it?”

“No, but I’m not stupid, I have heard of it.”

“You should read it.”

“No thank you.”

“So, you’re not going to do anything while you’re here?” He questions and TK turns around, goes back to aimlessly throwing the ball in the air so he can ignore Henry. 

“I’m talking to you, aren’t I?”

“Barely.” Henry points out.

“Enough.”

“Well tell me when you get bored enough and I’ll lend you the book.”

“That is never going to happen.”

He lasts 5 days on that statement until he asks Henry to just give him the book already, who does it, with a knowing little smirk at the corner of his lip.

…..

“So, TK how have you’ve been since I last saw you?” Bill asks. This time he’s in a navy blue button up, but he’s still wearing the washed out jeans, and his hair looks to be in more disaray than ever. He ignores the urge to comment on it though, he doesn’t think Bill would care one ounce about what he has to say about it.

This place is using some cheap and bad quality laundry detergent, the gray sweatpants TK has 4 pairs of have started to itch and the soft material has gone stiff and uncomfortable already, making him twitch in his seat, annoyed it won’t go away. It’s a shame, he really liked this pair and it makes him miss normal clothes a whole lot more than he thought he would, like even jeans, and what normal person even misses those hellish contraptions?

“Fine.” TK says.

“Still not going to my group therapy sessions I see.”

“I don’t have to, they’re not included.”

“I know, but it might be good to consider socialising every now and then.” He points out and TK wrinkles his nose in distaste.

“You don’t like socialising?”

“I do. Just not in here.”

“Why?” TK shrugs, he has no real reason. He just wants to keep his head down and get out of here as soon as he can.

“Okay, all I’m asking is that you think about it.” TK nods, but doesn’t think he will. 

“So, what do you like to do in the outside world then?” TK looks up, lifts an eyebrow.

“That’s your question?”

“Well, it’s building to something. Indulge me, please?” Bill appeals and he’s wormed past some of TK’s earlier reservations, the odd man being so surprising even TK can’t stand to be a total dick all of the time, so he huffs, to show he isn’t totally happy about that change. 

“I like taking drugs.” It’s Bill’s turn to huff and he levels TK with a steely look. 

“I like fucking boys.” He says instead.

“Now, you’re being purposely crude.”

“Well, what if I do like doing that?” He counters. 

“Then I’d say you are entitled to like ‘fucking boys’ as you put it, that’s fine but what about love though?” TK scoffs, conceals the pang in his chest.

“Love?”

“Yes, love, you’re 21, are you telling me you haven’t been in love yet? Not had a partner? And if you haven’t that’s also okay.” TK frowns, feels singled out.

“No.” He crosses his arms, it’s becoming a bit of a habit when he feels insecure and put on the spot, forced into uncomfortable situations, where he’d like the ground to swallow him whole. He makes himself feel small, an involuntary reaction to the hurt coursing through his body.

“Okay, has that not been of interest or?” 

“Most people don’t tend to fall head over heels in love with me if that’s what you’re asking.”

“That wasn’t what I was asking actually. It’s interesting though that you once again seem to come back to the issue lying with you and not something else.”

“What would the something else be then?”

“Why don’t you tell me what you think?” He teases gently. 

“I haven’t found anyone I like.” That’s a lie and TK knows it, he knows it too well, because despite what Bill might think, the issue does seem to really lie with him. People grow bored with him, he’s too much most of the time, and they move on while TK’s stuck, replaying the hurt and all he did wrong in his head to try and figure out how to conceal more of himself for the next time he meets someone that makes his heart beat painfully quick in his chest. And the solution to the inevitable hurt, he’s learnt, is to approach it with feign disinterestedness and take the scraps thrown at him, otherwise he would never get anything. 

“Okay, well that can sometimes take time.”

“Are you speaking out of experience?”

“Yes.” Bill says, but he doesn’t sound annoyed and TK’s eyebrow climbs higher into his hairline, not expecting to get a straight answer. 

“I noticed during the first meeting that you kept staring at the painting.” He points with his pencil and TK’s eyes travel the length, finds the painting that he thought ugly, but maybe actually isn’t. It just feels a little odd, something off with it. But the pink blending with the orange on the horizon is pleasant enough to watch. 

“Could you tell me what you think of when you look at it?”

“That sounds ridiculous.”

“Maybe a little, but I ask all my patients. I find it interesting to see what they come up with.” TK gives him an incredulous look but Bill doesn’t give, just waits TK out. He sighs audibly and takes a closer look to indulge. 

“It looks like the person is standing at the edge, on a bridge or something, deciding whether to take a step off the ledge and fall or not.”

“Hmm, interesting.” Bill’s quiet at first, keen eyes focused on the painting for a while before they move back to TK. “Not a lot of my patients have said that.” Bill looks fascinated by that and TK doesn’t like that either. He sinks further back into the couch, feeling out of sorts.

“I don’t like feeling studied.” 

“Sorry.” Bill apologises, genuinely looking a little regretful. “Sorry, that wasn’t my intention. When I look at it I see a person staring at a sundown on the horizon, I feel it’s something hopeful rather than sad.

“Really? I’m pretty sure the person is standing on a bridge though, like they want to jump.” TK adds absentmindedly.

“Maybe, maybe you’re right or maybe I’m right. I personally prefer my more hopeful version to yours but it’s up for interpretation, I don’t think we’ll ever find out which one of us is right. But it’s an interesting little thought experiment.”

“Does it not bother you that there isn’t a correct answer?” TK asks then.

“No, not really. Does it bother you?” TK shrugs, thinks about it.

“A little, but I’m not going to spend a lot of time thinking about it.”

“So you’d say that you’re good at letting things go then?”

“Again, with the leading questions…”

“They’re great for making you think about things though, aren’t they?” It makes TK snort.

“Sometimes I let things go easily and sometimes they eat away at me.”

“And when they do eat away at you? What do you do then?” TK shrugs. 

“Do you not know or do you not want to answer?” Bill pushes. 

“You already know what the answer is, I’m not sure why you’re asking.”

“I don’t know the answer, though I have an idea. But I don’t want to put words in your mouth that might not be true, that’s why I want you to tell me how you feel.”

“You want to see how I react to calling myself an addict.” He spits the word out, hates how it sounds coming from him.

“Partly. Earlier when you wanted to shock me you had no problem telling me that you liked using drugs, you didn’t even blink. Now though when we’re having a more serious conversation, it does, why?”

“Because…”

“Because?”

“Because talking about it when I’m not controlling the situation makes me feel like shit.”

“So, you like feeling in control then?”

“Yeah, sometimes.”

“Aren’t drugs by their own design made to make you feel like you’re out of control though?”

“They make me feel like I am.” He insists.

“I know, but then when the euphoria runs out, then what happens?”

“I take more or have a terrible come down.” He finishes.

“And when you feel the need to take more, do you?”

“Yes.”

“And can you stop?”

“Most of the time no.”

“So…?”

“So…?” Bill smiles indulgently and waits TK out. In the quiet filling up the room TK can hear the annoying whining of the ventilator once again and he wishes he could bash it in to make it shut up. He takes in a deep breath, exhales before he answers. “You’re trying to get me to say that I’m not in control, that the drugs are controlling me.” TK mutters testily, feels annoyed again but pushes it down, refusing to snap. 

“Do you not agree?”

“I don’t know.” He stubbornly doesn’t say yes.

“You know.”

“I know what you think the right answer is.” He snaps then, unable to keep the anger at bay, feels it flare up almost unexpectedly. Bill bites at his lip thoughtfully.

“I’m not trying to make you feel bad TK.”

“Well you are.” He glares, feels his face heat under the scrutiny and the prickling feeling underneath his skin TK’s learnt to associate with unese and when forced to face parts of himself he doesn’t like, is back in full force, making him reach forward to try and desperately itch it away. 

“Okay. But can you see the reason behind why I’m asking these questions?” He doesn’t answer, stares at the floor again, scraping away against the burning skin on his arms.

“Yes.” He grits out. 

“What do you feel then when I push and prod and ask you about these things then?”

“Angry, uncomfortable.”

“Okay, but why does me asking if you’ve had a partner make you feel uncomfortable and defensive? Is it really a question that should warrant such a strong response?”

“You’re doing it because you have an underlying intent with them.”

“Don't everyone though? If a friend asks you about a boyfriend for example, their intent behind the question is curiosity.”

“Yes, but they’re not trying to find out my deepest darkest secrets.”

“And you think I’m trying to do that?”

“Aren’t you?” Bill shrugs.

“Is being an addict your deepest darkest secret?”

“It was until everyone found out.”

“Everyone?”

“My mom and dad.”

“If they know and I know, then is it really your deepest darkest secret?”

“Most people don’t know about it, so I’d say it’s still a secret.”

“Okay, why?” 

TK frowns.

“Because I don’t want everyone to know I am a fuck up and how worthless I am.” The words are often repeated like a mantra in his head and now, when pushed, they’re ripped from his mouth, almost unwillingly. It’s hard not to feel like that about himself constantly, walking around feeling like the words are written on his forehead, everyone seeing him for the fuck up that he really is.

Since he’s gotten here though he’s managed to push everything behind a wall, which is walled up so strongly he’s managed to start feeling a little more level headed in most situations, even in here, in the stuffy ugly room. That is until Bill comes with his pick and starts hitting against the wall, trying to find the cracks to break him down and TK doesn’t dare to think about what will happen when the walls come crumbling down, so that’s what’s hiding underneath comes out for everyone to see. 

“When you have that thought TK, do you feel better or do you feel worse?” TK frowns.

“Worse.” He admits.

“Worse physically? Or emotionally?”

“Both…” He fights down the urge to pull his legs close up to himself, and he digs the heel of his foot into the ground to make it stay there, focusing on that instead of his heart pumping erratically in his chest, annoyance making way to unease instead. 

“Huh? Okay, is that a resourcing thought or a de-resourcing thought?”

“What?” TK asks, confused, crosses and uncrosses his legs in front of himself before he gives in and pulls them close to his body, tucking them underneath himself, feeling confusion mixed with interest pulling at him, despite trying to tamper it down. 

“Okay, so a resourcing thought is one that brings hope, good energy, the ones that make you think that maybe there is a way out, or it could bring you a bit more confidence and levity. A de-resourcing thought are the thoughts that make you feel hopeless, trapped, you might feel like there is no way out. It makes you feel heavy and energyless. So, when you call yourself a fuck up or wortless, is that a resourcing thought or a de-resourcing thought?”

“A de-resourcing thought.” TK says without hesitation. 

“Okay, we’re going to play a game now.” TK frowns, doesn’t feel like doing anything like that at all, but Bill ignores him of course. He goes up to his desk and opens up a drawer where he takes out a green foam ball and comes back and gives it to TK. He takes it, squeezes it and lifts an eyebrow.

“Okay, so imagine the ball is a steaming hot potato that you can’t hold onto, because if you do, you’ll burn yourself and it will hurt.” Involuntarily he squeezes the ball tighter, fights down the urge to drop it to the ground, but he clenches it too tightly and it drops anyway, bouncing off the floor before TK catches it again. Bill sits down in his chair, leans back, and waits for TK to meet his eyes before he starts talking again. 

“I’m going to tell you some statements and every time you feel a de-resourcing thought come you’re going to drop the ball like it’s burnt you, just like you did a minute ago.” TK’s brows knit together in confusion because it sounds stupid but he nods after a while anyway. 

“Okay, we’ll start easy.”

“Easy? I feel like you haven’t gone easy on me since I first set my foot in here.” He mutters petulantly, but he untucks his legs and plants them more firmly on the ground, leans forward a little more so he can be completely ready. Bill’s eyes twinkle with mirth, mixed with quiet intelligence and TK sighs and shakes his head, prepares himself. 

“Dogs.” TK almost drops the ball, so ready to just perform for a moment he doesn’t listen to what Bill is telling him, he stops and glares.

“Dogs? Really? I love dogs.” Bill chuckles.

“I was just trying to see if you were taking it seriously or not, but good, I love dogs too.”

“Only psychopaths don’t like dogs.”

“True, okay, what about… do you like yourself?” The stupid game forces him to think about it, which is obviously what it is designed to do and TK feels a swell of nasty emotions force its way to the top. He grits his teeth and drops the ball and Bill nods approvingly. TK reaches for it again, shakes his head.

“Good, do you feel like you are a reliable person?” Yet again TK immeditely thinks he isn’t, his recent track record is evidence that he can’t be trusted in any situation and all he does is let people down - with a sharp intake of breath he drops the ball again. 

Just like earlier it echoes when it bounces off the floor and he catches it with a shaky hand. He plants his feet firmly on the ground again, readying himself for another assault of hurtful emotions.

“Are you a person worthy of love?” Something lodges itself fiercely in TK’s throat and the hand holding the ball shakes viciously with each tremor and his stomach turns. ‘I don’t, I am a piece of shit’ he thinks, but he drops the ball anyway and the thoughts simmer down when his focus shifts to picking the ball up again. 

“We can stop there.” Bill says. “But good job, that was impressive and from your reactions to each statement, I can tell it wasn’t easy. But you did it anyway.” TK musters up a wane smile but averts his eyes and sits down again, immediately tucking his legs underneath himself, sinking back.

“Was it hard?” Bill wonders and TK nods in a jerky motion, clutching the ball tightly to his chest. 

“Yes, it was designed to be, but you got through it, how do you feel?” TK tries to take stock, for a moment focusing inwards. It’s something he became good at during his height of drug taking, to closely monitor each reaction to the different substances and how it made him feel exactly. No one starts with opioids, TK surely didn’t, so he quickly learnt what worked for him and what didn’t. 

It still takes him a while, to figure out the emotions simmering underneath the hurt and sadness he’s definitely also feeling. He’s never been good at that, knowing how to express himself in a way that isn’t too angry or too sad or too annoying, always worrying if he’s too much for everyone around him and their expectations of him. 

“Tired.” He settles for. Bill hums thoughtfully.

“Yeah, forcing yourself to confront a staggering amount of emotions, not all good, at the same time can make you tired.”

“Therapy makes me tired.”

“Yes, that’s normal.”

“Is it?”

“Yes.”

“So, what now then?”

“Now, our time is up.”

“Oh?” That surprises him more than he thought it would, and a pang of loneliness shoots through him at the thought of being dismissed like this. 

“If, of course there isn’t anything else you want to talk to me about?”

“Nope, I’m good.” He forces the words out, puts on a smile he hopes passes for genuine but Bill meets that with a piercing knowing look that makes TK drop it. 

“Are you sure?” He nods mutely. He doesn’t want to talk to Bill about anything on most days, but it’s odd that he now feels empty having to leave the tiny ugly little office he doesn’t even like.

“You know, you should try socialising, it might help a little with the loneliness.”

“Henry said the same thing.” He mutters. “And I’m not lonely.” He glowers, looks at Bill in annoyance, feeling put out by being accused of that again. 

“I’m not saying you are, but it might be nice talking with someone that isn’t me or Henry, people that are your own age I mean.”

“I don’t need anyone.” He crosses his arms.

“I didn’t say that either, but you could think about why you feel like you don’t need anyone for our next session and we can talk about it then.” He’s going to protest, but Bill gently holds up a hand to stop him. “And consider joining up for a group therapy session.” TK snorts but leans forward to place the ball back on the tiny table between them.

“Sure doc.” He says sarcastically before he saunters out of the room, refusing to think too closely about what Bill’s said at all. He hears Bill’s faint laughter in the background, accompanying him on the way out.

……

The issue with being in rehab though is that there isn’t that much to do in here. And because he’s sticking to his earlier plan of keeping his head down, he does spend an unnecessary amount of time thinking about everything. It shocks even him, because he really isn’t someone that thinks things through, he’s more of an act first think later kind of guy, for better and for worse. 

But even TK doesn’t like being alone with his thoughts for too long at a time so he does take up spending time in the common areas, where the sound of other people can work to distract him a little from himself and his thoughts. He’s laying in a window seat, legs propped up against the wall, one hand resting over the low edge, headphones in scrolling a little aimlessly through the music on the iPod he’s gotten. He’s gone so long now he doesn’t even miss his phone. Well he misses the aimless scrolling, the option to play games and its ability for distraction. He doesn’t miss social media or texting though, so it’s not the phone itself he misses, just the option of doing something, anything other than thinking about himself. 

It’s a little after lunch and the area is pretty busy at the time. There is a TV in the corner, playing some old English comedy show. There is Lizzy at a small table playing chess against herself, practicing the moves and whatnot, Chris and Emma playing probably their tenth round of cards and Eames is sleeping in what looks to be an uncomfortable position in one of the chairs, beanie pulled down to cover his face, his hair sticking out from underneath it. TK’s been here long enough to know most of the names of the people around here and even though he ignores them most of the time, even he can’t avoid speaking to them from time to time, it’s only polite.

A guy called John, just turned 18 and the youngest one of the bunch, comes in, back hunched and eyes downcast. He drags his feet, looks too tired to even be able to pay too much attention to where he is going, but the destination that comes closest in his path just happens to be the armchair nearest TK, and when he steps in front of it he doesn’t even seem to have seen it, but he falls into it nonetheless and curls in on himself, eyes red rimmed and dry. And TK is going to ignore him, he really is. He’s going to keep his head down, put some music on on the ancient iPod his dad got for him, loaded with lots of the songs he asked for and probably a few of his dad’s own choices he put in just to mess with him and go about his day minding his own business. That’s his plan anyway, but he can’t stop shooting discrete looks at John, who has his head in his arms, pretending to be sleeping or at least something along the lines of not wanting to draw attention to himself, but looking incredibly small nonetheless. 

TK should ignore him. But fuck he looks small and scared and sad and TK can’t help but feel bad, wanting to help him in any way he can. The urge to do something is becoming too strong for TK to ignore and a little too aggressively he pulls the headphones out, twists his body and kicks one of his legs against the back of the chair John is sitting in. He thumps into it a few times before John finally lifts his head and glares through his tears.

“What?” He says, not even managing to sound that angry and TK stops for a moment, clearly not having thought this through. He sits up though, allows himself a moment to think of something, almost knocking the empty caffeine free tea mug off the window seat in the process.

“Are you okay?” He settles for because it seems to be the most natural way to approach this. John huffs, puts his head back inside of his arms and ignores TK. TK rolls his eyes, not exactly derailed by that pathetic excuse to avoid him. He thumps his leg against the chair again and this time John does snap his head up, eyes narrowed in what looks to be anger.

“What?”

“Do you want to listen to music?” He tries instead and waves the Ipod in the air and John’s green eyes grow from anger to confusion, moving between them and TK like he can’t quite understand. 

“W-what?”

“M-U-S-I-C.” He words it out, it’s a little rude but John is giving him such a puzzled look, his eyes wide in confusion that TK is a little worried he really doesn’t know what music is. Surely that’s not the case. Slowly John nods, still looking so unsure TK wonders what’s wrong with the kid.

“Cool.” He tries keeping his voice calm and he moves back on the window seat, leans against the window and pats the seat beside him when John doesn’t move. It’s the incitement he needs, he scrambles forward like a dog and leaps into the seat, stunning TK into silence. 

“Sorry.” John mutters, sad and TK’s heart tugs inside his chest when he’s on the other end of a freckled sad face that reminds TK too much of a kicked dog. For fuck’s sake.

“No, no, no worries.” He waves his hand dismissevly and chooses to ignore the odd sensation in the back of his head. He takes the headphones out again and hands one to John who takes it, his hand shaking a little, which yet TK can’t determine whether it’s due to nerves or aftershocks of being clean. TK doesn’t comment on it though because he knows about those goddamn shakes too well already, and sits back. John copies his position but he pulls his legs up so he can rest his hands on his knees, waiting for TK to put the music on. He considers what type of music someone like John would like and for a moment he can’t help but toy with the idea of trying to figure it out. But it’s beginning to feel a little awkward between them, both of them sitting there with no sound in their ears so TK just presses shuffle, hoping for the best. 

The slow bars of music fill his ears and it’s so nice to hear that it relaxes him immediately, it’s more of an unconscious reaction to it, but it’s nice nonetheless to feel it happen.

“Because The Night, by Patti Smith?” John asks amusedly and TK chuckles and shrugs, a little self consciously. 

“My dad loves this song.” 

“Mine too.” John huffs, eyes growing a little sad.

“We used to listen to it a lot when I grew up…” He doesn’t know why he’s offering up this piece of information, it’s so unlike him, but the memories of his dad dancing in the kitchen when he was a kid are almost too strong to ignore. He used to love it, and when his dad spotted him he would pick him and put him on his shoulders and swing him around like crazy in the kitchen, almost giving his mother a heart attack, she was so scared Owen would drop him. TK knew he wouldn’t, he had felt safe up there and it’s one of the fondest memories he has of growing up. The song has kind of followed him ever since then, always included in any playlist he makes and he would never admit it to his dad, but he loves the song too. 

He can tell John is listening, even though he isn’t looking at TK, just distractedly flipping fluff off his sweatpants, a matching grey to TK’s and stares intently at his knees. TK can’t help but look, feels his heart tug in his chest because John’s eyes have gone back to looking sad and distant, and TK tries to think of something to say to bring him out of his distraught state. The music seems to have helped a little, he’s unconsciously tapping his foot against the rhythm of the music but TK can see it hasn’t done enough to ease whatever is bothering John.

“Did you know there has been one successful Tinder match in Antarctica?” He asks, it’s the first thing he can think of, and John snaps his eyes to his, TK lifting an eyebrow suggestively. 

“Tinder?”

“The dating app?”

“Yes, yes, I mean I know what Tinder is, it’s just what you said seems very unlikely, there are no people who live on Antarctica permanently, the fact that they would even meet, or you know use the app while there, it’s weird.”

“Everyone gets horney.” TK points out, and John flushes.

“There have been 11 children born in total on Antarctica though…” He trails off like he’s embarrassed he’s just shared something that he knows.

“That speaks to my point though if 11 people has been born, even scientists want to fuck.” John giggles and it seems to spur him on.

“Did you know the driest continent on earth is Antarctica?”

“For real? I thought it was Africa or something.”

“Well Africa is a big continent and they are known to have massive downpours during their rainer season, about 1000 milimiteres on average which isn’t that much in comparison to some countries but it still rains which can for some, I guess be hard to believe. Atacama desert in Chile and Peru are actually one of the driest places on earth which is in South America.” TK isn’t totally sure if John is making fun of him and having a go at his intellect with his almost montome rambling but when he shoots TK an apologetic look TK realises it might just be the way he speaks.

“But Antarctica is still the driest continent?” He’s curious, damn it, and the question slips out. 

“Well it rarely rains at all on Antarctica though that’s the thing and the continent is almost entirely desert, and the little precipitation it does get, well it doesn’t melt so that’s why it’s dry.”

“But it’s not dry though? I thought it was cold…”

“Oh yeah it’s definitely cold, but there is an area on Antarctica that is called The Dry Valleys which hasn’t seen any rain for two million years. There is no precipitation at all in this area and it makes up for about 5000 square kilometers with no snow, ice or water. The reason why this region receives no rain is due to Katabatic winds, winds from the mountains that are so heavy with moisture that gravity pulls them down and away from the Valleys. So basically the humidity and moisture is so low that snow and ice can’t accumulate there which leaves the valleys just with dusty expanses of dirt…” He trails off again and shrugs awkwardly.

“What the fuck? Really, in Antarctica?” John nods. 

“Huh? That’s so cool, you’re like a little Einstein.” 

“Well, a little off, Einstein was a scientist, if you want a more accurate explanation for my Antarctica knowledge then Sir Ernest Shackelton might be a better fit as he was one of the most famous Antarctica explorers.” 

“Sure, sure, still cool.” TK shrugs, not too bothered by being bogged down with the details.

“Really?”

“What?”

“No I just mean you said cool, no one really does that in relation to me.” John whispers, a red tint to his cheeks that makes him look young. 

Oh, it kind of clicks for TK and he hides his surprise by plastering on a smile instead, he’s sure John can’t tell the difference. 

“Well, I’m sure that’s not true…” He offers like an idiot and it’s lame because John rolls his eyes, hard at him, but TK can’t seem to take too much offense by him, instead he pulls at TK’s heart strings, making TK feel things that aren’t annoyance or anger, and if he wasn’t so concerned with not listening to every thought he feels, then well, then he’d say that he cares. And that, that is stupid. 

“Well, people are stupid, if they don’t tell you they think you’re cool it’s probably because they are lame and not you.” John shakes his head.

“You sound like Bill.” TK huffs out a laugh, puts the volume down a little so he can hear easier what John says, but still loud enough so they don’t have to listen to the rest of the people in the room. 

“Well… maybe he’s right about that.”

“Is he not right about stuff in general or?” 

“Who knows.” TK shifts uncomfortably.

“You’re TK right?”

“Yeah, why?” He lifts an eyebrow.

“Oh, just, people think you’re scary, you seem more sad than scary to be honest.” 

“Ouch.” TK jokes, pretends not to feel too bothered by what feels like an intrusion. John blushes.

“Sorry, erm, I don’t always know what’s appropriate to say or not, I guess I never learnt, spent all my time with my head in books rather than being social. I’m also realising you didn’t ask and I just told you about it anyway, sorry.” His flush is high on his cheeks and his eyes keep flitting to the ground and back to TK, looking a little like a kicked puppy, like he’s just waiting for TK to send him away. 

“Nah it’s fine, I’m not bothered.” He reassures. “What’s your deal then?”

“You mean why I’m here?” TK shrugs. 

“No, I meant your deal, but you can tell me why you’re here if you’d rather like that?”

“Textbook nervous freak, OCD, pushy parents, anti social, stressed constantly, overachiever, sleep deprived, perfectionst…” TK holds up a hand to stop his montone rambling. 

“Did you just quote me your diagnosis or something?”

“Well, no, or maybe? Wasn’t that what you asked?”

“Man… no, but I think I got the picture, loud and clear. Sounds rough to be honest.” John shrugs.

“I guess… it landed me here didn’t it? I’m apparently unable to cope on my own out there.” TK detects a tone of bitterness and he tries lightening the mood.

“True, did you freak out during an entrance exam or something?” TK jokes but John winces, looks down, his hands shaking violently again and TK feels like an utter shit. “No, fuck? Really? That was just a joke based off bad stereotypes… I didn’t mean anything by it -”

“Harvard entrance exam, fucked that right up.” John interrupts and goans, clutches his stomach like it’s painful and looks down at the ground, utterly defeated that TK feels a flash of sympathy cut through him. 

“Well you’re still young, there's a lot of time if you still want to do that...” He tries weakly and John doesn’t even dignify the lame excuse of support with an answer and the tension radiating off him is hitting TK in waves. He feels suddenly desperate to change the subject. 

“Okay, tell me some other obscure fact I don’t know.” It makes John look up, frowning before he huffs, seemingly accepting the challenge and leans back against the window, feet dangling off the edge of the seat.

“Bumblebees can fly higher than Mount Everest.” His lip twitches like he thinks it’s really funny and TK is very endeared by that, while trying not to be. 

“What? For real?”

“Yeah, scientists were tracking two bumblebees and they were shocked to discover they could fly more than 29,525 miles, which is higher than Mount Everest.”

“Man, bees are awesome I swear.”

“We would most likely die without them.”

“Okay, true, but no more talk of depressing things, instead tell me how the hell you know all these things?” But TK defintiely likes it. It’s odd, but not in a weird way. John shrugs.

“I read a lot, I like reading and some things just stick. I tend to just read strange facts when I need a break from studying I guess.”

“By reading more, isn’t that kind of redactive?”

“I guess…”

“I just mean, what about fun, like what do you do for fun?”

“Fun?” He says, voice shaking, like the concept is so strange to him and oh my god TK thinks.

“Friends, partying, reading, fucking, gaming, running, I don’t know.” John’s frowning, eyes narrowed in an expression of bafflement. 

“Hm, okay, what about relaxing then, you must know how to do that if you’re working so much all the time.” John shakes his head.

“No, I definitely don’t know how to do that, it’s kind of why I’m here, remember?”

“Because of burnout or something then or?”

“Yes something like that, and the drugs obviously so I could perform all the time which just didn’t mix very well.”

“So, no fun and no relaxing? Like ever?” TK brings the conversation back on track, not totally feeling comfortable enough to discuss addiction with him, and John shakes his head, shrugs.

“Not even like porn or something?” John flushes at TK’s abrassivness and shifts uncomfortably, clears his throat, then he shakes his head.

“What? Like never?” TK can’t help but be curious.

“Once.” He whispers like he’s letting TK in on a secret, his eyes lighting in excitement as he tells TK of his rule breaking.

“And?”

“And what?”

“Did you like it?” 

“I don’t know… like I know I’m supposed to but it didn’t help with winding me down or anything.” John shrugs.

“What about reading?”

“Reading porn?”

“Well reading smut is the actual term, but yes, have you ever tried that? If you like reading so much then maybe that’s your jam.” He suggests.

“I’ve never thought about it…” TK’s eyes light up and he smiles slyly.

“Oh my god I have such a great idea, come with me.” He jumps off the windowsill and pockets the iPod before he takes off in a brisk pace, unable to keep his excitement out of his step. But John follows and that’s all that matters. This place has a library, TK’s obviously never been, but he knows there is one and each one of them are allowed to put in requests for books that they want to be included in the sortiment and some go through and some don’t, depending on how expensive they are and probably if the subject matter is deemed appropriate or not which is absolutely fucking ridiculous because they are all here due to various reasons of fucked uperdy having both seen and experinced shit most people don’t, so reading books with darker subject matters really is pointless according to TK.

He gets to the library, it’s pretty empty and he starts, with a vigor unusual for him, to search along the shelves for what he’s looking for.

“Aha!” He says, too loudly apparently because people shush him like they’re in an actual real library or something and TK swats at them, ignoring their complaints.

“This was what I was looking for.” He holds the book up and John takes it off him.

“Fifty Shades of Gray?” He asks, skeptical and TK huffs.

“Yes I know it’s essentially trash, very problematic, like don’t model any relationship after the possessive abusive asshole that Gray is, and also ignore the misrepresentation of the BDSM sex, like it defintiely doesn’t portray it in the right light, so ignore that, but, well apart from all that I’m sure you can find something in there for pleasure that you’ll like.” John flicks through the book, his eyebrow still raised in dubity and TK doesn't blame him, but he’s not felt this excited about anything in ages, so he’s definitely going to see it through. 

“Hm, but if there’s so many problematic aspects of it how can I even begin to enjoy it?”

“Dude, she wrote like 3 books full of sex, I’m sure you’ll find something in there that you’ll like, and if you don’t, then, well when you get out of here, do a bit of reasearch and I’m sure you’ll find what might be your thing.”

“What’s your thing?” John asks, managing to sound curious but innocent and not like he has any ulterior motive to try and unmask TK. He smirks.

“Guys.”

“Guys?”

“I’m gay.” Realisation dawns on his face and TK studies him for a closer reaction.

“I don’t know anyone who is gay.” Not what TK was expecting to hear.

“How do you know that?”

“Huh?”

“Well, you’ve met a fair share of people in your life, how can you know that all of them are straight?”

“True, I read somewhere that the estimated queer population of the worl is like 10% or something.”

“Well there you go then, we don’t exactly wear our labels written with a marker across our foreheads you know?”

“No, no, that wasn’t what I mean, I just meant -”

“Relax, I’m joking. I know you didn’t mean anything by it.” He reassures, feels a little bad because John looks a little scared that TK’s going to send him away or something, but thankfully he immediately looks a little less uncertain when TK doesn’t tell him off and oh man this kid really hasn’t had it easy. 

“Oh okay…” 

“Well tell me when you’ve finished and you can tell me what your thoughts are.” He winks cheekily and John nods excitedly, an expression of determination taking over.

“Okay, right this isn’t an assignment or anything like that, it’s for you and not for me so you need to do it for yourself, try and really think about it, no pressure though.” TK needs to get that point across, even when he does a terrible job of it. This has been fun, but despite joking around he is serious, it’s all for John, not for him. At least if he gets desperate he can use his hand. John seems to be almost scared of his own shadow, he’s in need of a pep talk from someone that probably isn’t TK, who can offer him some solid advice about this thing. But there’s no one else around at the moment, and this has been a nice distraction from everything else. 

“Right, yes of course.” 

“Sooo, are you hungry?” John nods, small smile at the corner of his mouth.

“I could eat.”

“Come on then.”

……….

After the one conversation with John it’s hard to avoid him. Not that TK is trying to do that, but he realises quickly how small the place is when John finds him easily enough when he tries to be alone. The only place John doesn’t follow him into is his room, it’s an unspoken boundary not even he will cross. But when John spends two days being ill and they are away from each other, TK finds that he misses his presence, his dry sense of humour that’s coming out more and more, the more comfortable John feels. He’s also really sarcastic at times, and clever of course, a little too clever, not always realising he’s toeing the line of what’s appropriate and what isn’t. TK should be bothered by all of it, somehow he isn’t. Spending time with John is the most fun he’s had and the most stimulated TK’s been in a long time, and for someone like TK to find anything stimulating, is unusual. So they take to each other’s company surprisingly well.

Therapy is progressing too, and the small little room is becoming so familiar that TK’s stopped minding it so much. He wouldn’t say he likes therapy, but he’s started to feel somewhat safe in the room now and things become easier and easier to talk about with Bill’s never ending patient eyes and thought provoking conversation he pushes TK to have. All in all, it could be worse. 

“What’s the first thing you’re going to do once you’re out of here?” John asks. 

It’s late spring and they’ve started spending time outside, the facility becoming way too stuffy when the sun rests on the building for hours each day and neither TK and John can stand the heat inside. TK is laying on a wooden table, his jumper balled up behind his head and John’s sitting on the bench below him, peering at TK through curious eyes. TK shrugs and cracks one eye open.

“Oh I know.” TK says. “I’m ordering the cheese fries from Shake Shake and stuffing my whole face with it.”

“Yes, I miss food, good food.” John agrees. “Though I’ve never been to Shake Shack.”

“Man you’ve been missing out, it’s epic, you’ll totally have a food orgasm.”

“A food orgasm?”

“It’s an expression.” TK snickers. “But it’s an accurate description, you’ll love it, their cheeseburger is my go to drunk snack.”

“I miss pizza…”

“Me too.” TK agrees.

“I miss drugs…” John admits a second later. “Well maybe not drugs, just the person I am while high. Life sucks while sober.” It cuts through to TK, and he shifts uncomfortably, swallowing down the bile in his throat.

“Yeah…” 

“I mean how am I supposed to like myself when I’m this fucked up person underneath everything?” John whines, and okay, sometimes TK wishes he would shut up because that’s hitting a little close to home.

“I don’t know.” TK whispers and John’s eyes travel back to him, realising he has done his thing, mainly gotten lost in his head and not thought things through and he blushes immediately, still not totally over that whole thing of speaking his mind freely.

“I mean -” 

“You’re honest, it’s refreshing, at least you can be honest with yourself.” TK interrupts.

“Can’t you?”

“Pfft who gave you permission to psychoanalyse me?” 

“No one, but like come on? Be honest now, I mean it’s not like you have anything to be ashamed of, please I can probably beat you in the shame scale.”

“Shut up.” TK snorts, rolls his eyes at the sarcastic tone and pointedly raised eyebrow being sent his way. 

“It’s true though, if you can’t be honest with me about what you want or feel, your fellow messed up only friend in this place, then who can you be with?”

“You’re so fucking annoying you know that right?” And it says alot about the development of their friendship when John ignores him and kicks his shins instead.

“Quit stalling.”

“Fine, fucking fine you pushy nobody.” John sticks his tongue out. “I want…” he breaks off, clears his throat and averts his eyes so he can look at the sky and not feel the heavy gaze of John’s eyes on him. “Fine. I want to be loved even though I’m a fuckup, I want to feel safe and I guess.. I just don’t want to be a burden anymore.” John’s quiet and TK glares at the sky and bites back his tears that come unwillingly, because it’s hard to admit these things, it makes him feel vulnerable and shaky. It’s horrible.

John wolf whistles.

“Damn that was a lot.” TK can’t help but laugh because it is an inappropriate thing to say, also kind of insensitive but he likes it to the alternative of seriousness and pity. Fuck that.

“I have a lot of issues.” TK winks and John smiles but it falls off his face pretty soon, a look of sadness passing over.

“Me too… I want my parents not to treat me like an inconvenience, like I’m a human and not a fucking product that they can prod and say whatever they want to. I want to be loved too...” They’re both silent for a bit and it sits heavy between them that they are both lost and broken, just looking for people to love them. 

“I want someone to love me…” John speaks again and TK looks back at him, small and sad-looking, a strange contrast to the blue sky and lovely warmth coming from the sun, darkening the air around them.

“Someone will.”

“Maybe, but like I’m so unprepared!” The words slip out of John, a desperate almost childlike edge to his tone.

“For?”

“For it, for love, like I’m so stupid.”

“I don’t think anyone can prepare themselves for love though…” TK says earnestly. John frowns thoughtfully.

“Have you ever been in love?”

“Do you always have to turn everything against me?” TK complains and John’s lip twitches.

“All I’m saying is that you might have some experience, teach me your ways Obi Wan.”

“God I hate that I know that reference.” He complains. They had a movie night a few weeks ago, TK had refused to go of course and John had eventually given up the begging and just pulled a reluctant TK to the common room, surprisingly strong for someone as small, and kicked him every time he had made a sarcastic comment about the first film in the trilogy. The special effects were so outdated and bad though that it had bugged the hell out of TK. 

After a while he only continued to complain because of the frown on John’s face growing more and more prominent and he was addicted to the danger and he wanted to see what would happen if he pushed hard enough. Yeah he was horrible, and John had seen through him and ignored him for the rest of the evening, and eventually TK had given up, sat back and enjoyed the film more than he thought he would.

John hadn’t stopped smirking the whole evening after. 

“What do you want to know exactly then?” He asks and sits up, leveling John with all of his attention, pretty sure it’s going to be one of those conversations that require TK’s whole set of non existing skills of intelligence to get him through. 

“I don’t know, I guess just how it feels to be in love.” TK shrugs.

“Honestly.” He sighs. “I’m not sure to be honest. As it stands I don’t have a lot of experience, people tend to dump me or not be into me at all if you can believe that.” He gives John a sardonic smile who watches back intently. ”But my guess would be it feels a little like a high.” 

With most people TK finds it is scary to admit things about himself, particularly those things he keeps tight to his chest. But it’s never been with John, not off putting or unpleasant like with most people, sometimes a little annoying sure, but not to the extent that it sends TK running in the other direction. Maybe it’s because John’s the actual first friend TK’s made that he feels like he’s on equal ground with, that whatever he says John can match or top it, but also that he can understand it too, understand what most people can’t and it’s nice to have a partner in this all.

It’s basically just easy with John. Particularly strange at some points for sure, but rewarding because his responses are always unexpected and surprising and TK really doesn’t feel like a freak when they spend time with each other.

“Being in love feels like a high?”

“Yes, have you ever had like really good sex?” 

“You know I have not.” John glares.

“Hhm, okay but like a kiss then, if I compare it to that?” When John flushes TK hesitates. 

“Really?” He asks, but kindly, because it’s really not a big deal, he’s just curious.

“No.” John says, an edge of helplessness to his voice that makes TK sigh.

“Fifty Shades of Gray didn’t do its job?” He jokes and John’s lip twitches into an almost smile.

“It sure was a lot of sex…”

“And none of it clicked?”

“Well it’s hard to know what I like or don’t like if I haven’t even kissed anyone, I don’t know how it’s supposed to feel, there is no comparison.”

“Okay, but if you look at Emma.” He points towards where she is, stretching in the sun. “Or at Chris, like completely shallowly speaking, who do you think is better looking? Or who would you rather kiss?” John frowns thoughtfully, eyes moving between the two of them for a minute, biting his lip in concentration before they settle back on TK for a brief moment, and he shrugs, puzzled.

“I don’t know, I kind of feel nothing.” He admits a little uncertainty and TK nods.

“Well you don’t have to like any of it if you don’t want to. Honestly. Some people don’t want to have sex ever, or do anything similar, and that’s up to them.”

“I’m still kind of finding it hard to think in those terms because I have nothing to compare it to like at all.”

“Okay, if you were to come at it from like a hypothetical angle then, what would you do?”

“Experiment? Do a lot of research at first and then conduct a thorough analysis of the data I have gathered.”

“Wow, you really know how to talk dirty to a man.” He jokes and John snorts.

“You asked.”

“I did, so why don’t you approach your, well sexuality or attraction in a similar way then? Research it.”

“In here?” He asks skeptically.

“Well you can start in here by writing down some things you might think you’d like or something I don’t know, but maybe not do the actual research in here, even though I’m sure there would be a few willing participants.” 

“Would you?” That takes TK completely off guard, his heart stops for a moment and he can’t help but freeze. 

“Be a willing participant I mean.” John clarifies unaware of TK’s inner turmoil, saying it kind of matter of factly like TK isn’t aware of what he’s referring to.

“I-I mean…” He trails off and John is looking confused, not hurt, just confused, and this is for sure one of the oddest conversations he’s participated in. He takes a deep breath, trying to gather enough sense of his thoughts so he doesn’t end up saying anything he’ll regret or that will hurt John, he really doesn’t want that.

“Okay, so like I’m flattered and all that, but erm…”

“What? No, I’m not asking that, just like if things were different and I wasn’t so messed up if you’d find me attractive I guess.”

“Yeah, yeah, I guess. I mean you’re not bad looking. Like from a totally objective point of view you’re cute for sure but from a subjective point of view I probably would not go for you, no.” And it’s true, John with his chocolate brown curls, with a fringe that lies in disarray that TK’s not sure how he can see a thing through, but somehow makes it very him to always push it out of his hair instead of getting a haircut, with green soulful eyes and random freckles on his face, then yes sure, John is cute, but there is something about him that doesn’t totally do it for TK and he might have an inkling that he sees him as a genuine friend, and he is not in the habit of feeling that sort of attraction to his friends. 

It’s that, and also definitely the fact that he’s so busy pulling out every hidden nasty feeling inside of himself that he really can’t seem to find any room for that sort of attraction right now. Not even getting himself off is something that appeals to him very much right now. Everything isn’t totally functioning like it normally does inside of his head, he’s sure it will be fine, once the rest of the inner turmoil starts to calm down a little. 

“Does that have to do with the way I look or my personality?” It’s so odd to have a conversation with someone who doesn't seem to be too bothered by what he’s about to say, just curious, but also almost too disattached from the conversation to even be able to take offence. It's fascinating for sure. 

“Personality, you’re kind of not my type and I don’t mean that in a bad way. But sure if we met in a club or something I would probably hook up with you, yes.” 

“Cool that’s nice to know. I mean I guess you’re a pretty attractive person, I mean your nose is your worst feature but like looking past that, you’re probably the only popular hot guy that’s ever been nice to me.” TK bursts out laughing, breaking the tension he’s been feeling ever since this started.

“Ouch dude, what’s wrong with my nose?” John grins.

“Nothing, it’s just sometimes the way it catches the light, it looks big and uneven.”

“Oh my god, you really know how to push a guy down a few notches, huh?” Self consciously TK rubs at his nose, and wonders if it really is big.

“Oh sorry.” John realises he’s overstepped and TK shakes his head. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that, it was an observation but like it was subjective!”

“I think I’ll get over it. My list of issues is too big for me to really hyperfocus on the size of my nose.” John laughs. He averts his eyes again, worries his lip between his teeth and his attention once again flitting between Emma and Chris and then back to TK like he’s considering their earlier conversation, a worry line present on his forehead. 

“I feel like a freak sometimes because I’m so awkward around people, and my head is such a mess that I don’t even know what I like. But like kissing, it should be easy, just put your lips on the other person’s and then…” TK laughs, can’t help but to.

“Yeah I mean that’s the logistics of it.”

“And then?” John pushes. 

“Then you put your lips on the other person’s and you move them…?” 

“You’re saying it like it’s a question, you’re supposed to know!”

“Man, it’s much harder to talk about it, it’s weird…” TK trails off and then he makes a decision in the split second between being quiet and starting talking again. This is why he doesn’t do this, but here he is again, running his mouth without thinking. “Why don’t I just show you so we can end this conversation and move on huh?”

“Show me?”

“John, read the room, I’m offering to kiss you.”

“Oh.” His eyes widen. “Oh.” He says again but with a little bit more excitement. TK puffs out air but it turns into a little laugh because this is so absurd. 

“Okay, you sure you want me to?” He asks just to be sure and when Johns nods his head vigorously TK plants his feet on either side of John’s body for a better angle. Sitting on the bench he’s a lot taller than what John is so he’s really going to have to lean down for this. TK lifts an eyebrow confidently.

“Okay, you ready?”

“What do I do with my hands?”

“Well, whatever you want, keep them to yourself or put them on me if you want to.”

“Ok.” 

It’s odd, this whole situation is so fucking odd and so clincical and sooooo unsexy like. But because TK isn’t doing this for himself, he’s doing it for John afterall, he’s therefore going to have to be careful and considerate. He doesn’t want to taint any future experience for John and he makes sure he studies his face carefully to see if there is any doubt on it before he does anything. There isn’t, just John looking back intrigued and with green intelligent eyes and TK’s sure he’s going to observe every move, categorize it down and take the task really seriously.

“Okay?” 

John nods and slowly TK leans forward and gently places his lips on John’s in a very chaste kiss. John doesn’t do anything, isn’t really kissing back so TK moves back almost immediately after. John’s eyes are closed, he’s slightly frowning his eyes moving behind his eyelids and he is uncharacteristically quiet for John. TK opens his mouth. 

“Could you do it again?” John asks, eyes still closed.

“Yeah, yeah sure.” TK takes in a deep breath. John opens his eyes and TK waits him out, it looks like he might want to say something more.

“I didn’t feel anything exactly, it was wet…”

“Is this a comment on my kissing skills?” TK jokes and John shakes his head.

“No, just an observation. Okay, again.”

“So demanding.” He huffs but he leans forward again, kissing John a little longer this time to see if it will have any affect. At least John responds a little this time, kind of kissing back, but still a little awkwardly, like he’s not yet sure what to do exactly. TK fidgets with his hands but when John exhales, opening his mouth slightly it almost immediately changes the whole thing and TK’s hands gently land on John’s face, angling it into a better position and the kiss deepens immediately, both of them breathing hard. TK feels John’s tongue push a little against his lips and he opens his mouth, not wanting to be the one to take charge, just letting John explore and do his thing. It’s a little awkward, John’s tongue a little too aggressively dipping in and out of TK’s mouth, but it’s not the worst kiss TK’s had, not by far. And with each stroke and curl of John’s tongue against TK’s, the more confident he grows and the better the kiss gets. It’s also making TK, unknowingly melt against John, his hands grabbing at John’s hair unconsciously to pull. It’s John who breaks it and it’s TK who has a fucking dazed expression on his face, his toes curled inisde of his shoes and John who has an eyebrow raised and looking a little smug, hair messy.

“Shut up.” TK mutters, and clears his throat, leans back a little to put some distance between them. John giggles, looks a little proud.

“You liked it.” He teases, TK’s not one to blush often but he does now.

“I haven’t kissed anyone in months, what can I say? I got a little affected.” John’s smug look softens slightly and he nods thoughtfully.

“What did you think then?” TK can’t help but ask.

“Well, it felt more than the first time, but it’s like there is some sort of disconnect or something. I liked it I think? But I don’t feel like I need to do it again, does that make sense?”

“Yeah sure, or maybe it has something to do with the person you’re kissing you know? It might be worth looking into kissing more people or people who aren’t men and identify with other identities too before you give it up completely.” John hums thoughtfully.

“No, I don’t think it’s that actually. But I don’t know…”

“Well honestly there is no pressure, like you should take everything at your own pace and if you don’t like something then that’s fine. It’s up to you what you want to do. Some things take longer to figure out, some don’t.” John nods like that makes more sense to him.

“Yeah?” He asks, hopeful and it’s so pure that someone who’s an actual addict, been through some dark shit, can still ask such an easy question with childlike curiosity, it’s getting to TK. He gulps down the emotions threatening to spill over and he nods, but he reaches forward and grasps John’s hand in his and squeezes.

“And never let anyone pressure you into doing anything you don’t want to, okay? It never ends well and you really don’t need that insecurity and self hatred.”

“Speaking out of experience?”

“For fuck’s sake John.” He groans and tries to take his hand away but John doesn’t let him and TK’s eyes snap to his. They’re clear, worried and TK sighs.

“Don’t look at me like that.” He looks like a fucking kicked puppy and TK struggles to say no when he does this. 

“Sorry, you don’t have to tell me…”

“It’s nothing serious, not like that, but I’ve been so out of it in some situations that it could have ended up being more dangerous than it ever really was for me, don’t make that mistake, okay?” John nods.

“Okay.”

“Now let go of me you weirdo.” TK jokes and John huffs, and shoves him gently away from himself. TK laughs and sits back leaning his head up towards the sun, feels the warmth on his face and can’t help but enjoy it. 

“Thanks though TK, it means a lot to have a friend here.” It breaks TK’s out of his peaceful moment and he tips his head forward, meeting John’s eyes. Something passes between them then. Both of them acknowledging that it is special to have someone you can talk to without feeling judged. It’s so unusual. 

“Yeah me too.” TK says, finds that he means it too, more than he ever thought he would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I have to admit, I love John ehhe. He wasn't supposed to be in this chapter that much but I loved him and how he bounced off TK so well. It was challenging but fun to write how different they are. Also, don't worry, they are just friends, we all need those from time to time.
> 
> This fic is unbeta but as usual a MASSIVE thank you to Ellie who has been very very supportive and critical and challenged me throughout this in ways I've probably not been challenged in writing before, it's frustrating ahah but it's also great and I would never exchange it for anything else. Thank you sooo much!
> 
> Next time there will be more therapy, I promise, I just needed something else for TK this time around.
> 
> I'm excited about this week's lone star ep, TK paramedic??? YES PLEASE. Owen TK drama??? God I hope so, if not you can all bet I'm including it in this fic heheh.
> 
> You can find me on tumblr as beeexx.tumblr.com where I sometimes rant about the show and reblog other things.
> 
> Thanks for reading <3

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, credit is due where credit is due. The ferret reference was all Ellie, I have her brilliant mind to thank for coming up with that. I also need to thank her for reading through this first part and imparting some wisdom on me and how to approach writing the whole thing. Thank you! Ah and she's just joined the fandom and I have been her beta for a while now and let me tell you, when she shows the world her fic, it is going to be GREAT!
> 
> Okay so firstly, I don't know much about the american rehab system nor do I know if I got a lot correct here, which is why I have been vague with details. Also I'm definitely not a psychologist, as I am sure many of you will notice once you read and continue reading this. But I've tried very hard to make it sound somewhat realistic and I hope that got across somewhat at least. 
> 
> We have a long way to go yet for TK, but I'm excited for his journey. Thank you all so much for reading.


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